seeing me painting near his house, used to bring me daily a branch
of a cherry-tree with all the cherries on it. "Son piccole," he
would say, "ma son gustose"--"They are small, but tasty," which
indeed they were. Seeing I ate all he gave me--for there was no
stopping short as long as a single cherry was left--he, day by day,
increased the size of the branch, but no matter how many he brought
I was always even with him. I did my best to stop him from
bringing them, or myself from eating all of them, but it was no
use.

[Autograph which cannot be reproduced: Tlolinda Del Pietro]

Here is the autograph of one of the little black-mouthed folk. I
watch them growing up from year to year in many a village. I was
sketching at Primadengo, and a little girl of about three years
came up with her brother, a boy of perhaps eight. Before long the
smaller child began to set her cap at me, smiling, ogling, and
showing all her tricks like an accomplished little flirt. Her
brother said, "She always goes on like that to strangers." I said,
"What's her name?" "Forolinda." The name being new to me, I made
the boy write it, and here it is. He has forgotten to cross his F,
but the writing is wonderfully good for a boy of his age. The
child's name, doubtless, is Florinda.

More than once at Prato, and often elsewhere, people have wanted to
buy my sketches: if I had not required them for my own use I might
have sold a good many. I do not think my patrons intended giving
more than four or five francs a sketch, but a quick worker, who
could cover his three or four Fortuny panels a day, might pay his
expenses. It often happens that people who are doing well in